


That Goddamn Anatomy Book

by poetrymafia



Category: Rose Under Fire - Elizabeth Wein
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Is that a thing, Platonic Romance, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:12:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetrymafia/pseuds/poetrymafia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Róża and Rose are modern-day college students who have known each other since high school. Róża came to the US as an exchange student from Poland and she has yet to tell Rose about her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Goddamn Anatomy Book

_Drabble based on[khirsahle](http://khirsahle.tumblr.com/post/110478709305/and-done-sorry-i-cant-take-any-more-more)’s list of kisses_

* * *

 

Róża slapped her textbook shut so hard the library table rattled. I pulled my earbuds out, startled.

  
“Do you… want to stop?” I asked, wrapping my earbuds around my phone and shoving them together into my oversized purse.

 

Róża jiggled her leg and stared at the table. “No but…” She bit her lip and picked at the frayed corner of her anatomy textbook.

 

I waited for a moment, but when she didn’t finish her sentence I spoke up. “Maybe we’d better quit anyway.”

 

Róża didn’t say anything, just silently shoved her books back into her bag and threw her Snickers wrapper in the garbage. I followed her out of the little study room just as silently, surreptitiously watching the other student groups spread around the library basement. Everyone was focused, and there was only a low murmur from a study group in the corner and a few keyboard clacks to give us any signs that anyone was still awake and alive.

 

I had already decided, based on years of experience, that I shouldn’t say anything to Róża about what had happened. As we walked up the massive basement steps, I reflected on that.

 

Róża had been my best friend ever since we teamed up to prank Nick at the school-year kickoff party our senior year of high school. I would never forget the way she laughed, hilariously but almost silently, next to me in the bushes behind Nick’s house. Her eyes crinkled up at the corners and in the darkness, I was close enough to see the light dusting of freckles she’d gotten over her summer here. After our graduation, she joined me at the state college as an incoming freshman.

 

Róża apparently didn’t have a lot of reasons to return to Europe. When I asked her about her life before coming to the US, she just clammed up and her eyes shot fire. I’d learned to accept that she’d dropped into America, fully formed, at nearly 16; like an angel perhaps, or a changeling from the fairies -- but I couldn’t ignore all the hints and scraps of information about her past that came through in her unguarded moments. Sometimes without warning, Róża would lose her composure and have to leave or sit in the corner scratching furiously in the notebook she always carried with her.

 

Maybe today was the day I could ask her about it. Maybe after three years of friendship, Róża would unfold her life to me.

 

I cleared my throat as we stepped out into the warm spring sunshine. “Do you want to go someplace, get a coffee?” I squinted at Róża, who had started kicking pebbles into the landscaping lining the sidewalk. She shrugged, then paused. “OK, Rose. But it has to be Joe’s.” I knew she didn’t want to waste the afternoon going off-campus for a treat. We walked down to Joe’s Café and ordered our usual Wharton coffees. Outside under the trees I found us a perfect spot to sit.

 

Róża seemed over-intent on finding a spot for her bookbag and meticulously stirring her coffee. I could tell she was readying herself for something. But when she finally spoke, it wasn’t at all what I expected.

 

“That goddamn anatomy book,” she started bitterly. “That _przeklety... straszny…_ ” And she drifted off into a Polish rant.

 

I was getting rather good at Polish, though. “First of all, your cuss words are getting more mild all the time; what’s with that?” I shifted on the grass so I could look at her better. “Also, what do you mean the book... made you fail? You’re doing just fine in class.”

 

Róża let out a half-scream, half-growl. “Rose, I thought I could continue studying until I understood everything. I thought I was better at this now. You know how it was in high school; my concentration was…” She struggled for the word. “ _Straszny_?” I suggested uncertainly. Róża ignored me. “I had to go to doctors,” she said, staring at me; but it seemed like she couldn’t see me. “What is the word... For mind doctors?”

 

“Psychiatrists.” I nodded. “I remember you were sick a lot during your first year.”  
  


She shook her head. “No Rose, I was not s-- well,” she changed thought midsentence, “I was sick but… it was from stress. From trauma. My life before I moved here was like a nightmare.” Róża’s eyelids fluttered and she swallowed hard. “The doctor said I have PTSD.”

 

I leaned back on my hands. It made sense; I didn’t know all of the hows and whys but suddenly everything clicked.

 

“My notebook helps, and I went to a lot of counseling the first year I was here,” Róża stared fixedly away from me. “But they told me some of the things that happen never go away, and I have to live with it.”

 

“Róża,” I said softly, “I never asked. I never asked what was happening; I just… I don’t know, accepted it.” I looked at her, the girl with the same smattering of freckles under her eyes that she’d had when we were 17; the girl who had struggled with culture shock and a second language while coping with whatever horrors she’d left behind when she moved to Pennsylvania. She was still the same girl I’d known and loved for three years. But now I knew great strength and brokenness lay inside. I felt like I’d been thrown back to the start of our friendship, and would have to get to know her all over again.

 

Róża looked back at me. I saw pain, and some fear in her eyes. Did she think I would react badly to the news?

 

I leaned over and kissed her warm forehead. My lips left a smack of shiny chapstick just above her right eyebrow. “I’m so so glad you told me,” I said quietly, drawing close enough to put my arm around her. A glance down at her face showed me that Róża’s eyes were swimming with tears.

 

“It was the legs,” she whispered, blinking rapidly as her tears began to fall. “In the goddamn anatomy book. It was what happened…” She gulped. “But I’ll stop talking about it now.”

 

“If you want to. Only if you want to.”

 

I held her tight and let her sit in silence.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I was just gonna do some fluffy drabbles, based on the Tumblr post linked in at the start of the fic. But today I had to tell a coworker about my own PTSD, to explain a "freakout" I had that didn't make sense to him. I kept thinking about that today, and about how triggers can seem really random and hard to understand, but that doesn't make the trauma less real after all. It's good to have people who care and understand.


End file.
